Shit Building Mixer #3
She taps her chipped yellow nails on the bar. “To be honest, there’s a lot of suspects.” She pats my arm conspiringly. “Like that guy across the hall from us has a sort of nineties molester uncle in loafers feeling to him, you know what I mean?”
At least I can wholeheartedly agree with this. “Yes, I actually do see it.” I can’t help my grin at her apt description of
Divorced Dad.
“And his wi-fi is called something like ‘wi-fi daddy,’ like what even is that? Is that supposed to be funny?”
I nod at this serious character evidence being presented.
Sami paces toward the front of the restaurant to lean against a booth next to the window, his elbow sinking into the squished
red leather as he tilts the blinds back, eyeing the Northern Property Management construction site that he loves to hate most.
Jane leans in closer, one eye on Sami, and whispers, “And since you have all the keys and are checking everyone’s apartments
for this electrical thing, maybe we could sneak for my undies?”
She looks completely serious. I jerk back. “Um, no. I can’t do that.”
Her eyes cast down as she nods. “Yeah, that’d be a bit dangerous, wouldn’t it?” Her voice is dismissive, like she already
expected me to deny willingly breaking and entering in random neighbor’s houses. “This is the kind of thing you need a search
warrant for. I’ll contact the police.”
Shit. I should’ve expected this. Of course, if she files a report, there’s a chance Irene will be contacted. And if she gets
wind of a tenant dispute, then, of course, Lana’s not going to be thrilled.
“Wait, don’t do that.” I grab her arm before quickly retreating. She looks at me expectantly. I rack my brain for the plot
of literally any podcast I’ve heard echoing through my walls. “If you contact the police, they probably can’t do much at this stage. You have
no proof of a crime, and no real suspects.”
“You’re totally right.” Her eyes brighten at this. “It’s so frustrating how easily women’s instincts get dismissed.”
I smile politely and continue. “My bet would be the police might open a file, if you’re lucky. But if we had proof, something concrete, then at least we could do something with it.”
“What kind of proof are you thinking?”
I’m definitely getting in too deep, but judging by the way Jane’s eyes are lighting up, I clearly have no choice but to commit.
“We’ll investigate ourselves,” I whisper. Excitement radiates off her like static, and it boosts me enough to add, “Operation
Dirty Pant—”
“Hey, I almost forgot!” We both startle and turn. Sami is suddenly behind us, holding out a clipboard. “Sorry, I didn’t mean
to sneak up, but I told myself I’d gather signatures for this petition if either of you are so inclined.” He holds out the
paper for us. “It’s something me and some other local small businesses have organized.”
“Oh, sure!” Jane takes it, and without reading it, she grabs the pen strung to the board and signs. When she’s finished, she
nods to the front door and says, “I was going to ask what that new sign was about, anyway.” I follow her gaze, and sure enough,
a purple sign taped to the interior of the front door has appeared, CALM THE CONSTRUCTION! in big bold letters on top.
Sami nods. “I put it up this morning. A few more will be sprinkled down our street, I think.” His jaw ticks for a flash before
he smiles. “Anyway, thanks for indulging me during your mixer.”
Except, we’re an hour in, and it truly looks like it’s going to be just Jane and me here. I don’t know what Sami pictured
for a mixer, but this has certainly bottomed out my low expectations.
Jane hands the petition to me and says, “Power to the people!” She flicks her wrist to check her loose chain watch.
“Shit, I gotta get back and feed Hank or he’ll pee on my work shoes, the vengeful creature.
” She stands and rests a hand on my shoulder.
“Mona, let’s discuss the details on Slack.
” She chugs the rest of her wine in one gulp, clinking the empty glass as she places it on the counter, and grabs another sandwich off the platter, wraps it in one of the diner napkins, and drops it into the depths of her giant tote bag, never to be the same again. “Thanks, Sami!”
The bell on the door jingles as it closes behind her, the CALM THE CONSTRUCTION! sign waving with the door, and then it’s just Sami and me again. It occurs to me that I’ve never seen this place with more
than two customers at a time.
I read the petition. The gist is that they want the city to slow down on issuing new building permits so that infrastructure
like water mains and the like aren’t strained by the sudden growth. Makes sense. But I know the real reason is so the businesses
and old apartments aren’t further devastated by all the new construction—by the nuisance of the constant noise, the road blockages,
and the eyesores of the perpetually empty lots, and everything that comes after.
As I look at this vacant diner, at this nice guy who literally threw a “party” to try to help me out, it’s a no-brainer. I
sign and hand it back to Sami and hope it helps.